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Chapter 2

The Dog

The whores of the mansion, myself included, were terrified of Factor Braxfield.

I was knelt upon the hardwood floor of the factor's office. A draft was blowing in from beneath the door-frame; I shivered, but not just from the cold.

'I can hear your teeth chattering,' Braxfield said sternly, 'if you do not stop making noise I will...' he trailed off, distracted. He did not look up from his ledger.

I clenched my jaw. The potential of a threat was enough warning.

The factor sat at his desk -- a large solid oak bureau -- scribbling away in his big red book, but Braxfield seemed angry at the pages. He scored out line after line. This task was taking his complete focus.

I stared at him. His Dobermann silhouette was framed by a large oil painting upon the wall which spoke of rugged glens and cloudy skies. He was every part of a man that I envied. Tall, handsome, alpha. His cold, humourless eyes betrayed an animal one step away from a violent fit of rage.

I gently rocked and hugged my knees to my damp fur for warmth. What had I done to deserve this? To have the factor drag me from my bath and frog-march me down the corridors -- it was humiliating! People laughed!

My eyes scanned the office. It was grey and foreboding, but had buckets of personality. The fireplace smelt of a long-dead peat fire; it irritated my throat. I held the cough down for fear of Braxfield's ire.

I realized how stupid this was, I should not be too scared to cough! If I could not wrap this clearly sexually frustrated dog around my little finger then I did not deserve to be called the best whore in the estate.

I made up my mind.

On all fours I slowly crawled my way across the room. I slipped under the great desk and found myself between the legs of the Dobermann. The dog looked down at me without saying a word. I tried my best to match that hunter's stare.

I placed my hand on his knee. 'Please, Master Braxfield?' I begged, 'I'm naked and cold. Could I sit in your warm lap?'

The factor's gaze was brief. He continued to write in his ledger.

Spurned! It stung to be ignored, but there was no turning back now. Unperturbed I climbed up into his lap and hugged his trunk.

Hurriedly I unbuttoned the factor's shirt and pressed myself against his bare fur. He was like a furnace, and for the first time I felt comfortable in this cold office.

From this angle I could not see Braxfield's face, but he had at least stopped writing. I nibbled his neck.

If I were to judge then I would say the Factor liked his fucks as pathetic as I was acting. 'Master,' I mewled, 'I feel so tingly when I touch you.'

I fumbled with the buttons of his breeches.

In one swift movement a powerful hand grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and threw me to the floor.

'I asked for silence. This was not an invitation to prattle,' spat a thunderous Braxfield, but he did not raise his voice.

I could feel my heart in my mouth, adrenaline was coursing through my body. The factor's hand -- poised to strike -- was lowered, and his look of anger softened to one of pity as I lay prone upon the hardwood.

'It is not your fault. It is how you were trained,' he said softly. He looked guilty. 'Nonetheless, this is my sanctuary and I do not tolerate noise.'

The factor moved behind his desk. From a drawer Braxfield retrieved a giant gag in the shape of a dog's cock. It was one of the largest I had seen. The rubber was a vivid red, with a bulbous knot on one end, and a dangerously wide tip on the other.

I dared not speak a word, but the factor saw the look on my face. 'There are holes. You will be able to breathe,' he said as he approached.

With his thumb Braxfield pried my chin as far as it would go. He slid the rubber member down my maw. My throat rapidly expanded to the girth, and my lips were stretched uncomfortably wide across the knot at the base. I could feel that huge tip like a lump of coal deep inside my gullet.

The factor brought himself around and buckled the straps across the back of my head. I was now trapped, my breathing regulated through this monstrous rubber muzzle.

'If you remain calm and breathe slowly, you will be fine,' Braxfield announced as he sat directly opposite. 'You may be shocked to hear that your gag is modelled after me.'

My jaw already ached. This was really Factor Braxfield's cock? The dog was massive! I could barely see ahead for the sheer size of the plastic knot.

The Dobermann laughed humourlessly. 'Since you could not wait, we will now begin,' Braxfield said. 'Masturbate.'

I was stunned. My mouth tasted of vulcanized rubber. Here? Now?

'Now.' The factor said as if reading my mind.

I spread my legs, exposing myself completely to the dog.

I began to circle the ring of my anus with one finger. This felt very naughty; masturbation was a punishable offence. The matrons were very keen on catching boys in the act. In the dormitories the mandate was to sleep with your hands by your sides at all times.

'I tell you to masturbate and you start playing with your ass?' Asked Braxfield. He gave a lopsided grin, 'no, of course you do. You well and truly are a well-trained boy-pussy.'

I nodded; the rubber dick bobbed with my vision. I pointed to the plastic phallus in desperation, begging him silently to remove it.

The dog sighed. He didn't take his hungry eyes from my hole. 'I was born deaf. I could not hear until the age of six,' the dog said in way of reply. 'I am gratified to be able to hear, of course. But every unwelcome sound you make is like an intrusion into my own personal thoughts. The gag will remain.'

Braxfield fell into silence. The room was now so quiet it was almost deafening. I inserted a single digit into my anus. The sound -- which would normally be lost in the heat of passion -- was a cacophony of vulgarity in this mute temple. Playing with my butt had never sounded this noisy.

I was hyper-aware of every tiny movement. First, there was the soft suck of my stretched lips upon the plastic gag, and then there was the moist sound of my greedy boy-pussy invaded by my fingers. Such small, personal noises filled the room in ways I did not anticipate. This intimate moment felt like a giant, voyeuristic spectacle. I would have done anything for the opportunity to close my legs and hide from Factor Braxfield's intense stare. I felt like I was going mad: I had serviced groups of men on stage, yet I felt more exposed in this room containing a silent audience of one.

I let out an moan as my fingers found my tingly spot. The moan reverberated through the gag. There was simply no way to hide my involuntarily noises.

I turned my head away from Braxfield. My cheeks were flush with embarrassment. I inserted 2 fingers now; probing deep. I silently begged for anything to mask my masturbation.

'The lady of the manor,' Factor Braxfield said, breaking the silence, 'desires you to be repurposed as a stud.'

I stopped. What? The gag muffled my protest.

'Continue,' barked the factor, 'this will be the last time you will be feeling pleasure from that boy-pussy. Studs fuck, they do not anally pleasure themselves.'

My mind spun. Wait, what? Was I denied anal? Anal was my life. I had never inserted my penis into anything. I do not think I had ever cum without a cock sodomizing me.

'Your regime,' Braxfield continued, 'will transform to fucking. Your hormone treatment will turn you from a nymph into an Adonis. Your exercise regime will change to emphasise fucking, and you will now be wearing your cock-head permanently exposed at all times.' He gave a short, harsh little laugh. 'We do like our little rituals on the estate.'

The Dobermann stared intently at my hole, now invaded by three fingers. My tiny foreskin-covered cock bounced up and down with every thrust. The soft, wet noise of my vice was intolerably public.

'I personally don't think you will make the cut,' Braxfield continued. 'It is the lady who insists, not I. Nonetheless, your identity will be rebuilt from the ground-up, and we will be spending considerable effort undoing most of your psychological training.'

I phased out what he was saying. Adrenaline coursed through my head. Rebuild my identity? Would I even keep my name?

The factor stood. He grabbed me by my waist and threw me onto the desk. The ledger was cast aside to the floor. 'That is enough preparation,' he barked, 'this will be the last time you'll feel a cock up your ass. Consider this my reward to you.'

Braxfield loomed over me as I lay upon the desk. He unbuttoned his breeches, unleashing the gag's flesh counterpart. It really was massive, and the same bright red colour. The size made me yelp in surprise.

The factor pressed his tip up against my quivering hole. I could not describe the heat, the hardness that didn't just radiate from his cock, but from his entire body.

'Such a waste,' he whispered, 'I'm told you were one of the best.'

He slowly penetrated me in one confident motion. The factor clearly had experience; he mounted me with military precision. I could feel the hot, red knot press against my anus. I was completely helpless. I moaned into the gag. The noiseless room guzzled the sound as greedily as my butt guzzled dick.

I realized my own embarrassment was turning me on.

The factor lifted my legs onto his shoulders. His slow, calculated thrusts were intense and noisy. My mind was drunk on sounds. I could hear the dog's cock in all its vulgarity as he sodomized my butt.

His balls landed hard against my pert butt with wet slaps. His tip scraped against my most sensitive spot. The tingly feeling within my belly was growing. I wanted to cry out, but could only make alien, muted noises.

I closed my eyes and listened to the sounds. I felt the hardness. The heat. If this was my last moment as a boy-pussy I intended to commit it all to memory. I concentrated on the tight ring of my anus around the factor's cock. I memorized the feeling of fullness when Braxfield hilted me. I saw the steam billowing off his muscular, hard body; he really was a furnace. Every time he hit my prostate a shiver went through my body. I mewled another muffled moan that reverberated across the gag. I was so naked, so exposed. Why couldn't all sex be like this moment?

I was delirious. A fever was cascading up and down my body. The factor knew every inch of my erogenous flesh. His hands were confidently wrapped around my waist, while his maw bit lightly down upon my nape. His every movement lit my body aflame. Had we had sex before? How did Braxfield know my body so well?

My breathing now was more ragged and shallow. Small whistling sounds emitted from the air-holes of my gag. I was beyond caring. I had reached heady heights of exposure. I clamped my mouth around the rubber, and appreciated the shape of the factor's cock invading both my mouth and my pussy.

Factor Braxfield hilted me hard. I gave a muffled gasp as his knot pushed passed my defences and expanded within me. I was now well-and-truly bred; my anus sealed. Fireworks shot across my eyes. Spurts of cum shot out of my tiny foreskin and landed on my tummy.

The factor shuddered. He bit harder into my nape. His cock jumped. I could feel my hole filling with warm cum. I wanted to shout 'make me your kitty bitch' in euphoria - but it came out muffled and garbled. Rope after rope of seed made me feel like I was about to burst.

Factor Braxfield pulled back, and my anus followed. We were well and truly stuck together. The balloon of his creaking knot plugged me like a sink. His dick jolted, unleashing more seed. My eyes rolled into the back of my head.

As I came down from nirvana I realized Braxfield was staring directly into my eyes. I must have looked delirious: drunk on cum and starved of air. The things he made me feel...he really was an animal.

With one hand the Dobermann reached out and unbuckled my gag. The rubber cock slid out of my throat with a wet popping sound. Life came slowly back to my jaw.

'Now, what do we say?' Asked the Factor.

I remained silent.

'Good kitty. You may sit in my lap while I work,' he laughed.